


Snow Bunnies

by peacehopeandrats



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Afterlife, Angst, Character Death, F/M, Flash Fic, Holiday, Song fic, Storybrooke (Once Upon a Time), The Dark Castle (Once Upon a Time), The Enchanted Forest (Once Upon a Time), multi-season
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 09:21:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 9,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21967069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peacehopeandrats/pseuds/peacehopeandrats
Summary: Originally a collection of 12 Rumbelle flash fics written for Eilinelithil, and extended to 16 by repeated reuest. There is a winter theme here that will be revealed fairly quickly, but I'm not giving it away in the summary or this would be longer than the fics themselves! Also, as the chapters go along, this rating will change. You have been warned.
Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Comments: 95
Kudos: 21





	1. The Weather Outside is Frightful

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Eilinelithil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eilinelithil/gifts).



> Eilinelithil is giving me a winter gift that I am thoroughly looking forward to, but I also wondered what I could do in return. Then this very annoying idea hit me and wouldn't go away. Now, for the actual 12 days of Christmas, I'm doing 12 days of winter flash fics. Because winter is my thing.

Belle stared out the window as the cold wind whipped the first snow of winter past the walls of the Dark Castle. The season was changing with a determination that most certainly marked the end of her walks in the garden. She held in a sigh as she gazed into the darkness beyond the glass panes, reluctantly accepting the inevitable. At least the coming of winter would mean spring could not be far behind and the flowers would be in bloom again.

Her attention shifted when she realized that the room behind her had grown still, the whistle of the building storm replacing the usual creak and whirl of Rumple's spinning wheel. Her eyes flicked from the outside world to focus on the reflection of the Dark One perched on his stool, watching her. He seemed frozen in time, trapped in the glass that was the only barrier between their comfort and the bitter cold of the outside world.

She smiled as she watched him, knowing he was unaware of both his own distraction and the amusement she found in it. He had such a tender heart, really, and it broke hers whenever he fell into one of his pits of self loathing and doubt. It was true that without darkness there could be no light, but Belle wished she could help him to find that place in the middle ground, where she _knew_ his true self had been hidden by the beast he claimed to be.

Rumple's ghostly image twitched once, his shoulders shifting one way and then the next as he realized his stillness and struggled with whatever intentions were floating around in his mind. For a moment she allowed herself to imagine what he would do if he found he had been caught in his study of her. He would, no doubt, stammer out some quip to cover for his actions, fingers flicking at the air in nervousness. The idea made her lips curl upward and her face flush and she bit the inside of her lip to help school her expression back into something more neutral before he could notice. 

Once she was satisfied with the appearance of her reflection, she lowered her hand, letting the curtains fall back into place, and turned to bid him good evening, but instead of facing the open room, her eyes found only the Dark One's quizzical expression. 

“Is there something I should know?”

Scared out of her wits, Belle slammed back against the window's ledge, surprised by the immediate closeness. How had he crossed the room so instantaneously? Had he used magic to close the space between them, or had she missed his footsteps in her moment of distraction? Her breath came quickly and her hand instinctively flew to her chest. “You startled me,” she complained.

“Sorry,” he answered, though he certainly didn't sound it. Rumplestiltskin gave her only a moment before leaning closer. Only inches from her, he hissed out his frustration, the breath fluttering so close that individual strands of her hair lifted in the breeze it created.“Now,” he insisted in a determined whisper. “Answer my question...”


	2. The Fire Is So Delightful

Rumplestiltskin watched as Belle's eyes widened in either surprise or shock, then turned downward to stare nervously at the floor. For anyone else who found themselves under the Dark One's cold gaze, he would have used the word, “fear,” but not for Belle. She had a fire to her that licked at him and drew him toward her as if he were a moth, flitting closer every day on delicate wings. One wrong move, he knew, and his plans would turn to ash in the flames.

“I'm waiting,” he reminded her. The words tipped up and down like a child's tease.

She turned her gaze back to him, meeting his stare with determination. “I was watching the storm, if you _must_ know,” she huffed. “I apologize if you find something sinister in my enjoyment of the season's first snowfall.” 

“Hmm,” he mused, tapping his fingers on the stone wall behind her. He pretended to contemplate Belle's action as he forced himself to stare into her brilliant blue pools. Better that than let his attention wander lower, to the perfect curves that shaped her chest. “So long as you aren't planning your escape.”

He turned sharply and strode back to his spinning wheel, knowing that if he lingered at the window temptation would get the better of him. Behind him, he could just make out the shuffling of feet, the rustle of fabric, and a mighty huff of air. Rumple imagined Belle, arms crossed, one foot stuck out in indignation. As he turned to sit, the scene he caught from the corner of his eye was an exact replica of the vision he had created. Well, if she thought he was testing her, all the better.

“That's it?”

Rumple looked up, but didn't turn to face her. “What else were you expecting?” The question came with a flourish of his hand. “I'm convinced you aren't plotting against me. You can go.”

Belle crossed the distance between them, each step sounding out the strength of her anger. “I can _go?_ You accuse me of trying to escape and you don't even _apologize_?”

He turned to her then, curling his lip into a lopsided sneer that he hoped would appear more thoughtless and casual than menacing. “Sorry,” he offered blandly.

There was a long silence between them as she studied him, mouth quirking to the side in contemplation. It was torture to see her like this, to hold himself back when his only desire was to catch her up in his arms and kiss her until they both burned for more.

“Well, I _was_ going to say goodnight,” Belle said at last. “But since you don't _trust_ me to keep our deal after all this time, I think I'll read for a while.” She crossed the room to the fireplace, threw herself into the chaise lounge that he had moved there for winter, picked up her previously discarded book, and opened it with such force that he wondered how the pages remained intact.

Rumple blinked at her, unsure of what to do or say. He knew that she had just challenged him, but to his own great frustration, he was at a complete loss for what should come next. The snippish words that usually flowed easily from him somehow lodged in his throat. All he could do was swallow them down as he gazed in wonder at his fiery beauty.


	3. Since We've No Place To Go

Belle glared at the words in her book, cursing herself for the way she had just reacted. She let Rumplestiltskin's infuriating behavior get under her skin and now, instead of going to bed as she had wanted, she was trapped in a battle that she could not win. If she left for her room, she would be giving in to his finicky moods, but expecting the Dark One to retire for the evening was positively insane.

Why was it that whenever the two of them found some balance in their relationship, at the very point when they were getting along, he had to go and poke the hornet's nest? Usually it was over some petty thing that he managed to blow to such grand proportions that the two of them ended up shouting and hating each other for days. 

Tonight's accusation had hit harder than the rest, cutting right to the center of her as if she had been run through with a sword. Not once had he _ever_ challenged her resolve to stay. In fact, he seemed quite content to flit off to wherever and leave her alone without a thought to what she would do in his absence. Yet suddenly, after a cheerful day of companionable existence, he had the nerve to suggest that she would break their deal. 

Remembering the incident only strengthened her desire to stay. She wasn't having _her_ integrity put to the test. She had promised him forever and that was _exactly_ what he would get. She would sit right here in front of him until he got tired of his little game and sent her on her way.

Minutes passed with only the steady creak of the spinning wheel and crackle of the fire to mark the time and she realized she had yet to turn a single page in her book. Blinking to better focus on the words that she could see but not comprehend, she skimmed one line and then the next without processing any of the meaning. The soothing sounds and late hour calmed her as she sat and wondered if she had now proven her point. Belle could almost feel the pull of her bed. Lumpy and uncomfortable as it was, it beckoned from the dungeon below. She longed to let it pull her in, but if she left now Rumplestiltskin would most certainly have won.

She shook her head in confusion, wondering what exactly it was they were fighting over this time. Was it about power? Was it about her honesty? She felt as if whatever it was had been more important ten minutes ago than it was now. All that seemed to matter at this moment was that the text of her book was spreading before her eyes, smearing and swirling in a heavy fog.

Suddenly Belle felt a sharp pain in her neck and her head flew backward, cracking audibly as it over extended. Eyes wide with alarm, she took in her surroundings and realized that not only had the wheel stopped turning, but that Rumplestiltskin had left it entirely.

“Get up!” The command came from her right and she complied without hesitation. “I have better things for you to do than sitting here all night.”

Belle reached up to test the area that felt the most pain. “But... it must be past-”

The Dark One's eyes grew cold. “I don't care _what_ time it is. If you can sit, you can sweep.” When she hesitated, he took her firmly by the elbow, pulling her hand from her neck, and guided her to the door.


	4. Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow

The very notion that Belle seemed to believe he had struck her brought Rumplestiltskin's blood to a boil. Flicking his hand at the air, he silently commanded the doors to open and dragged her through to the entry, ignoring her many protests. The list of his dark deeds may have fit on a parchment that was longer than the castle was tall, but lifting his hand to a woman, to _Belle_ , would _never_ be written on it and if that was what she thought, then she deserved to be shown otherwise. Besides that, she was being ridiculous. Challenging him by trying to stay up all night? The poor thing needed rescue from the fate she had assigned herself.

Without warning Belle froze in place, yanking her arm so hard that when it broke free of his grasp she stumbled backward. “Just _where_ do you think you are taking me?”

“I believe I told you there was work to do,” he sneered, gesturing at the door that would take them outside.

“At _this_ hour?” Belle's eyes went wide. “In the middle of a _storm_?”

Rumplestiltskin sighed, letting the release of air also free some of the tension he had been holding in. She was just so damned beautiful when she was angry and whenever he noticed this he found his own anger cooled considerably. She was right to be hurt, he was treating her horribly, all for the sake of his own future needs. It wasn't fair to her, especially since he was neglecting to reveal his true intentions to her.

“Fine,” he relented, snapping his fingers once as he sent his magic to do his bidding. Let her think the addition of her comforts was _her_ idea.

Belle frowned at him, undoubtedly still confused from the fog of sleep. She began to look around the room, searching for the end result of his magical touch, then turned awkwardly as she realized a soft fabric was blocking her peripheral vision. She studied the cloak he had given her, caressing the lining and lowering the hood as her head tilted to the side. “What is this?”

In answer, he pointed at a nearby broom, pulled into existence from the air around them. “There's sweeping to be done,” he reminded her as he opened the doors, revealing the world beyond.

With hesitant steps, Belle crept forward, eyes glowing with surprise as she saw the massive, standing candelabras scattered about in the stone courtyard, flames almost still by the command of magic alone. Past the castle gates the storm would rage on, but here, for a short time, Rumplestiltskin had ordered the winds into submission with a mere thought. He smiled as he watched her pace quicken, her small feet leaving prints in the newly fallen snow. She twirled in the warm glow from the many candles, head lifted to watch the snow as it fell to meet her, and as he watched, all of the pain and fear he had felt only moments ago drifted away like the tiny flakes that danced by her side.

Suddenly, her hand was in his and she was pulling him out into the evening, rambling about the beauty and wonder that was the changing of the seasons. He listened only to hear the sound of her voice and the notes of pure joy it contained. It was risky giving in to his desires to please her, allowing himself these moments to revel in her happiness, but Belle was worth all of that and more. 

(End of verse 1)


	5. It Doesn't Show Signs Of Stopping

(Begin verse 2)

Gold dropped to the chair in the sitting room, exhausted. He had always dealt in information, but this particular juggling act was beginning to take its toll. He wasn't worried about dropping a ball, of course, but he was starting to wonder just how many he could catch in his little hat before it burst at the seams and everything came spilling out like it always did.

He thought about the hat as he closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. He was certain that _it_ would provide him the means to keep the promise he had made to Baelfire in the cemetery. Rumple only needed to work out _how_ to capture the darkness with it and still retain his magic. If he could just be rid of the dagger, free himself from the control it had over him, abandon his unnatural addiction to its power, he and Belle could be happy.

Poor Belle. She was consumed with the need to make up for using the dagger against him. Her continued belief that it was real both gave Gold hope and crushed him at the same time. After their wedding, when they were both so full of joy and love, he had seen only brightness in their future, but fate had intervened. Again. It had tempted him and he had failed to resist. The pesky thought that he would never be good enough for her stuck him like a bed of needles with a thousand points.

Rumple's eyes filled with tears as he recalled Belle's confession of knowing Anna and hiding it from everyone. Reliving the pain she had shared with him was almost more than he could bear. Neither of them were perfect, he knew that, but now he _finally_ had the chance to make things right. And he would. As soon as everyone from Arendelle went on their merry way and left everyone in Storybrooke out of their little family drama. 

The front door opened and Rumple scrubbed quickly at his face to hide the evidence of his torments. He smiled when he saw his wife struggling with bags of groceries and jumped up to help. “Let me get that, sweetheart,” he murmured as he reached for her.

She beamed at him and handed over one of the heavy bags, filled to the brim with all manner of things. “Thanks. I hope you don't mind that I made plans for tonight. After everything that's happened, I thought...”

He rested a hand on her back, in both a show of support and in the hope of stopping a downward spiral before it could begin. “That sounds lovely,” he assured her as he walked with her to the kitchen. He set the bag down on the counter and raised an eyebrow at an unexpected clank that resounded from the bottom. “What on earth?”

Belle instantly looked nervous and hurried to reach inside. “I know it isn't usually what we do,” she told him as she fumbled around with the typical cartons of pasta and cans of vegetables, removing them hurriedly. He noticed her hand shook a little and he reached out to catch it in his own.

“Whatever your plan, I'm sure I will enjoy it,” he told her.

“Good,” she breathed as she lifted the final item with her free hand and held it aloft in triumph. 


	6. I Brought Some Corn For Popping

Rumple's eyebrows rose as he studied her. “A pot,” he said quizzically and the corner of his mouth tipped upward in a lopsided grin. “Belle, you _do_ know we have some already...” He was teasing her, which meant he had probably worked out what she had in mind, but she didn't care.

“I just thought...” Belle let out a long breath to steady herself, not really sure why she was suddenly so nervous. He would agree to anything she wanted if it made her happy. Their past was proof of that. Reaching for a bag of popping corn that was tucked among the groceries, she gave a self depreciating shrug. “Well, I thought we haven't had much time for ourselves since the honeymoon, and all of this talk of the past and Arendelle...”

He waited patiently for her to continue, but when her mind stumbled over what to what to say next, he offered a suggestion. “It made you think of home?”

“In a way, maybe,” she admitted, putting the corn with the pot on the table. “I just thought it might be nice to have an evening like before, when we lived in the castle.”

Gold gave her a knowing smile. “With or without the flirty arguments?”

Belle felt her face flush and turned her eyes down for a moment to try and control it. “You know what I mean,” she huffed and nudged his shoulder. “I thought we could have dinner first, by candlelight, then maybe... move to the fire for a while before bed? Cook up a snack the old way?”

Her husband's eyes brightened as he picked up on her intentions, then caught an intense gleam as he pulled her close. “It sounds lovely,” he conceded. “But under one condition.”

“What's that?” She blinked up at him expectantly, willing the flutter of nerves to leave her stomach as she worried over what he might change.

“I think...” he began as he released her and turned to the collection of food. “Since we are now married... that cooking should be a joint venture.” He lifted the box of pasta and tipped it playfully one way, then another, taking on his impish Dark One voice to ask, “Let me help?”

She beamed, nodding emphatically, then moved to gather what they would need.

The collaborative experience of cooking quickly became something more sensual than Belle could ever have imagined it to be. Rumple almost turned it into a dance as they moved around each other, first pressing close and then pulling away, whispering little nothings into her ear as he leaned forward to reach for a spoon or turn on the stove. The effect was maddening and wonderful and almost made her want to skip dinner so they could jump straight to dessert.

When the meal was ready, he pulled out a chair for her and helped her get settled at the table, then gave her a wicked smile. “Tell me, Missus Gold, have we reached the end of our modern living?”

She nodded, lip tucked between her teeth. “I think so, Mister Gold.”

With a snap of Rumple's fingers, everything changed.


	7. The Lights Are Turned Way Down Low

The kitchen was dark with the coming evening, but the light in Belle's eyes was brighter than Rumple had ever seen. Candle flames danced in them, reflected in the cool blue depths, mingling with the delight that already sparkled there and seeming to shoot outward as if from a prism. Of course the radiated light was a figment of his imagination, his heart's way of experiencing the love he felt for her and reveling in her love for him, but that didn't matter. They were alone, gazing at each other across the table through soft candlelight, and time was standing still.

Oh how he loved her. He loved her gentle tone and her icy stare . He loved her soft uncertainty and her fierce determination. He loved her sharp mind and her warm heart. And he loved her ability to push him toward things he felt unsure of, to brush away his fears or the worries of what others would think of him, and show him that once in a while it was perfectly all night to take a chance on something new. 

Rumple's eyes flicked to the distant fireplace as he pondered Belle's intentions. There _had_ been a time when he had done things he now considered undignified. She hadn't known him before the Darknes, hadn't seen the the way he lived. Milah despised his insecurities, and after years of her ridicule, Rumplestiltskin had packed away his playful heart and childish ways because she insisted they made him seem ridiculous and irresponsible. As the Dark One he'd had a mask to hide behind. Now, the mask was gone and Milah's reach came from so long ago that the her actions cast long shadows that blanketed everything. Could Belle's light reach those tendrils and push them away? 

“Rumple?" The gentle call made him blink away the past.

"Sweetheart?" He gave a smile and tried to look more certain than he felt. She had always accepted him, even when he played the part of the impish rascal. She'd even seemed to like it.

Belle rose and reached out for his hand. “Come with me?" It was the most subtle of requests and he could not refuse.

He let her lead him to the fireplace and then set about tending the fire as directed, while she prepared a place for them to relax on the floor. When the flames were large enough and the corn ready, he turned to find Belle standing in front of him, blouse unbuttoned, hanging open to reveal her lacy bra and creamy soft skin. Lip tucked between her teeth, she gazed up at him nervously, her eyes burning with desire.

In agonizing slowness she stepped closer and reached up to slide has suit jacket to the floor. Her eyes dropped to follow it, then lifted as her fingers fiddled first with the buttons of his cuffs, then at the fastenings over his chest. One by one she released each until she could run her hands inside the fabric and play with the skin underneath.

Rumple shivered at the touch, his body tingling with need for her. Through a rumble of pleasure he whispered her name, then reached out to pull her close. He could feel himself swell when her skin pressed to his and quickly cast all notion of the popcorn aside. Belle was all that he needed, all that he wanted. Food could wait.

As he bent to kiss her, she whispered his name. 

And at that moment, someone knocked on the door.


	8. Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow

_Damn it,_ thought Belle as the knock came again. She gazed into Rumple's dark eyes and could see they were full of need. It took everything in her to pull away, but she managed.

“Ignore it,” he begged as he caught her hand and tried to pull her closer. His whisper was hoarse and desperate. “They'll go away.”

Belle glanced at the entry, keeping her voice down as well. “What if it's important?”

“If it's important they'll break the door down,” he huffed sarcastically as he slipped his hand under her shirt and trailed it up her spine.

She shivered, but shook her head, gesturing at their disheveled state. “And see this?” They had taken some chances in the shop before, and as Lacy she had convinced Gold to make out in an alley or two, but Belle knew that her husband had _no_ desire for someone to walk in on them naked on the floor of his own home.

At this Rumple finally relented, releasing her with a heavy sigh. “You have a point.” 

Belle gave him a weak smile and gently caressed his cheek as the knock came again. “Later,” she whispered. Holding the blue fabric of her blouse shut, she left him to open the door. “Oh... Hello-” The words were all she could manage before Snow White burst into their home, cradling a somewhat fussy Neal, concern etched in her features.

“Belle! I'm so glad you're here. We've been trying to reach you.”

“I um... Had my phone switched off,” Belle stammered as she struggled to make herself presentable. 

Snow paced as she continued, oblivious to her surroundings. “Well, you weren't at the shop so I came here and when I saw the lights out I worried...” Her steps carried her forward until she froze in her tracks and quickly turned away. “Oh! Oh, I am _so_ , so sorry...”

Belle walked over to stand between their guest and her husband. She gave Rumple an apologetic smile as he shrugged on his jacket, the shirt beneath still hanging open, then guided Snow White away. “Has something happened?”

“Emma's gone missing,” Snow told her. “I was hoping you could babysit Neal again.” 

“Of course,” Belle said, even as Rumple reached out to pull her away.

“Belle,” he whispered once they were out of earshot, “you're letting them take advantage of you.”

“She trusts me,” Belle told him. “And you know how particular she is about leaving Neal. Besides, we _owe_ them whatever time we can give. They did name him after _your_ son. If this will help find their daughter... The woman that Baelfire _loved_...?” Belle let the question hang between them, studying his face until he finally relented with a heavy sigh that she couldn't determine the meaning of. 

A moment later Neal was in her arms and Snow White was gone.

(End of verse 2)


	9. When We Finally Kiss Goodnight

(Begin verse 3)

The house was quiet, so quiet that it felt as if a spell had been cast to freeze it in time. The absolute stillness made Belle shift under the covers, rousing her just enough to be aware of it, ears tuned to the faintest noise. For a while nothing came, but then she thought she made out the barely audible tone of Rumple's voice.

Gazing through lids heavy with sleep, she slowly took in the room, trying to determine where the sound was coming from. Eventually she made out a form standing in the corner, illuminated by the faint gray light of almost dawn. Her husband stood by the window, shirtless, whispering softly as his weight shifted from one foot to the other. In his arms, a similarly shirtless Gideon slumbered peacefully, head tucked against his father's side, their hearts aligned.

Belle smiled and watched as father and son passed what felt like hours in their one-sided discussion. There was no way of knowing from the tone what topic Rumple had chosen. When Gideon needed soothing, her husband was just as prone to storytelling as he was to explaining how the sink worked, and he used the same lilting softness for both, so the morning's intense whisperings would remain a mystery.

Eventually Rumplestiltskin bent to the crib, setting Gideon down with such tenderness that the boy barely wiggled in the transfer. Father hovered for a while, gazing down at his son, then crossed the room to return to bed.

"Did he wake up?" Belle mumbled the words as she rolled toward him.

Rumple made an iffy sort of face. “He was starting to get fussy," he said softly. “Going to put his things in the freezer when we get up. I think he's cutting another tooth."

She sighed and wrapped herself against him. “You are wonderful with him.” She paused, reliving the countless moments much like the one she had just witnessed. Belle knew other women might feel as if their role as parent had been taken from them if their partner spent as much as time Rumple insisted on in caring for their child, but she felt blessed. He had been denied fatherhood in so many ways that limiting his time with Gideon felt as if she were draining the life from his heart.

“I'm the luckiest woman in all the realms,” she told him finally.

“Oh?” His hand caressed her shoulder, ran down her spine and pulled her body tightly against his own.

“Well, no other mother gets to sleep through the night after they've had a baby,” she teased, draping a leg over his and wriggling under the pretense of getting comfortable. 

There was silence between them then and Belle opened her eyes with worry. She had expected at least a chuckle if he hadn't been up to one of his playful remarks, but Rumple's eyes were heavy with... something.

“Rumple? Are you-”

He hushed her then, love filling his eyes until it consumed them, and rolled to cover her as he began a kiss that deepened quickly and transformed into a long morning in bed.


	10. How I'll Hate Going Out In The Storm

Centuries. That was how Rumplestiltskin measured his life. It was a curse that only he had been forced to shoulder the burden of. All of the previous Dark Ones hadn't survived this long, either being killed for their power or arranging their own demise because they were ready for the end. He had outlived them all and he was so, so tired.

Belle's words echoed in his mind as she rested beside him, her body blissfully limp over his own, exhausted from the morning's attentions. She had been teasing him, he knew that, but the words had been a reminder of everything he had been fighting so hard against since the moment she first smiled at him, eyes sparkling blue, cheeks flushed with delicious embarrassment. She might say she was grateful for the residual affects of the curse that resided in him, but she deserved much more.

Gideon was growing so fast, and Belle would, eventually, age with him, while all Rumple could do to alter the appearance of _his_ age was grow his hair and put on a pound or two. They would change before his eyes and he would remain the same, never sleeping, never at peace with his past. No matter how far he pushed it away, the darkness would linger and fester inside of him, threatening to pop out at the smallest prick against his soul.

His family was his light and his life; his entire world. When he had chosen to protect Emma, spoken the words that would have released Gideon, then felt the heart go cold in his hand... that moment, that knowing that the right path had lead to the end of his son... It had nearly ended _him_. And to have the gift of raising him after that? To feel the heart vanish just as the cries of his newborn child filled the air? It was not something he would _ever_ take lightly.

Rumplestiltskin had sworn to himself that those final words spoken to Gideon's heart would be the _last_ words he ever used for magic. Keeping that promise had been so easy that in the first weeks he had jumped at every noise or movement, terrified that one wrong action would push him back to the darkness, to his addiction to power and his lust for the magical arts. Nothing happened, not in the first weeks, not in the next month, and now here he was, resting in bed every night and getting up every morning to _do_ things, really _do_ them. 

The next test was coming. It was a tiny speck of a plan pecking away at his thoughts and trying to settle in his brain as a fully formed idea. Belle was happy in Storybrooke, but he knew that what she truly wanted was adventure. He was going to give her that. He would give her the world and when she had finished with it, he would give her realm after realm. There were endless possibilities to choose from and she could pick from any of them, but would he be ready for her to pick a land full of magic?

Life here was certain. He was under control. He knew exactly who Mister Gold was and what part Rumplestiltskin played in that role. He had merged the two entities into something that approximated what his life had been like before the darkness had taken him and the man made from that merging was uniquely him. It felt wonderful and he wasn't ready to challenge it. Not yet. Outside of town, outside of this realm, everything was uncertain. There was no knowing what temptations awaited.

 _If I am thinking this way, then I'm not ready,_ he told himself as his eyes drifted from Belle's sleeping form to the crib at the other side of the room. He would give it some more time, but refused to linger in doubt for too long. _No later than his birthday,_ he decided. _That long and no longer._


	11. If You Really Hold Me Tight

Belle woke with a shiver and fumbled for the covers, only to find they were out of her reach. On instinct she rolled to her side, her body seeking the heat of the man she knew she would always find there. A moment later, before she had even finished moving, a warm arm pressed to her spine, pulling her along with it to bring her flesh against Rumplestiltskin's. She sighed in contentment as she snuggled close, head resting on his shoulder, eyes opening to find his own gaze wandering over her exposed curves.

“Enjoying the view?” Her whisper was husky with sleep and a swiftly growing need for him. She tried to glance along the line of his body, but couldn't catch sight of what she wanted, so she trailed a light touch down his chest and over his stomach, not stopping until her fingers found their target and gently stroked the length of him.

Rumple took in a breath that caught and continued, then caught again when her caress shifted to surround him. “I... might have been... taking advantage... of the... state.. you fell asleep... Belle!” The final cry was only a breath, but held all the desperation in the world.

She grinned and released him, returning her hand to his chest and bringing her lips to meet his. “Sorry,” she almost giggled.

“Oh no you're not,” he returned, his own voice warbling with amusement. “You know, if you wanted to be covered, all you had to do was ask.”

Suddenly he was on top of her, his chest pressed to hers, but resting too low to align them properly. She growled softly and raked her fingers up his back in an attempt to correct his position, hoping to catch his hips and guide him to her.

Rumple kissed his way from her shoulder to the base of her ear, begging for patience in a single breath. “You first...” His hands played over her skin, cupping her breast and teasing her nipple while his mouth and tongue continued to dance over the curve of her neck. With a shift of position, his fingers teased at her folds, then drifted away again, only to return to dip deeper, making her gasp. Belle arched her back to catch his touch, whimpering whenever he pulled away, and when he finally moved inside her, her entire body tingled with pleasure.

Their lovemaking was slow and tender, each thrust bringing immeasurable bliss. It was a quiet moment not for the sake of a slumbering Gideon, but for the absolute need of having each other, truly being together and drowning in the love they shared. With each gentle thrust Rumple sank deeper, filling her completely by the time her body was rigid with a need for release.

“Rumple,” she murmured into his shoulder as she drew her legs higher, the burning heat of need becoming the electric fire of release. 

She burst around him, light seeming to fill her very being as he fell over the edge with her, moaning and tensing before finally relaxing above her. Though he seemed utterly spent, he still teased her with slow movements of his hips until she begged him to stop. Rumple smiled down at her then, his eyes pooling with tears. She kissed him gently and ran a hand through his hair, letting a thumb brush at the moisture on his cheek, willing his pain away in a single movement.


	12. All The Way Home I'll Be Warm

Rumple fought to hold in the emotions that washed over him as he came down from their moment of bliss, but the tears fell anyway. He wasn't afraid of them or of Belle seeing them, he simply didn't want to cloud their bright moment with his desperate need for her.

"My Rumple." The words were tender, her hand warm on his cheek. 

"I don't want to loose you, Belle," he said in a wavering voice. "I can't. Not again.”

Belle frowned, a look of concern flooding her as she wrapped her arms around him. "You won't,” she assured him gently. “I'm not going anywhere. Ever."

"But you will,"he insisted, a fear of being alone suddenly consuming him, making him tremble. He could feel her death in the future, hovering just out of reach, the emptiness of a life without her a dark cloud beyond it. “You'll age as the years pass... Gideon will grow up...”

Belle's brow wrinkled. "Rumple, what brought this on? " She ran her hand over his back to soothe him.

He opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by a whimper from the crib. “I'll go,” he said quickly, grateful for the distraction.

Rumple kissed his wife as he pulled away, feeling hollow without her, but the void was instantly filled when the pulled his son close, all worries for the future forgotten in the hope of filling Gideon's needs. “Is it time for breakfast?” The words were melodic and soft until he caught a glimpse of the world beyond the window.

"Belle!" He cried out with childish excitement, rushing to pull her from the bed. "Come on!"

"What? Where?" She blinked in bewilderment but allowed herself to be pulled from bed until she realized they were leaving the room. “We can't go anywhere like this,” she laughed.

Rumple grabbed the blanket and threw it clumsily over one shoulder, then clasped her hand again. "Come _on_ ,” he demanded playfully. “You want to do this.” He gazed into her eyes and willed her to believe him.

Immensely curious, she relented, padding down the stairs with him to the back door, then stood, blinking in surprise. "Snow!”

Rumple passed Gideon to Belle, then opened the blanket and draped it properly over his shoulders, making a cloak that he wrapped tightly around all of them before opening the door. Not giving a thought to their appearance, he guided them outside to stand bundled in the chilled morning air.

The first delicate flakes of winter floated around them, one landing on Gideon's nose and making him blink in surprise.

“Your first snow,” Belle exclaimed softly, tapping where the flake had melted and making him laugh. She turned in Rumple's arms and gazed up at him, eyes sparkling with happiness. “Thank you,” she said before planting a light kiss on his cheek. “Not just for this. For the first time, too.”

He leaned down to nuzzle at her hair, taking in the scent of her. “I wanted this then,” he confessed.

Belle laughed. “To stand naked in the storm?”

Rumple shook his head and brought his lips to hers. “No,” he whispered. “You.” He kissed her tenderly before opening the door and guiding them back to the warmth of their home. His mind wandered to that first evening, watching her twirl in the candlelight under a dark sky and he couldn't help but watch her now as she chattered at Gideon about the fun they could have later. She was a regular snow bunny, he thought, light and full of the joys of a new season, a season he couldn't wait to share together as a family.

End of verse 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the end in general, as it currently stands. There _is_ more to the song (and more to the story) but this was meant as a 12 days of Christmas type of gift and day 12 has come. (Not sure how that works, as I don't follow Christmas, but I hope I had the general idea right.) That said, I might be convinced that the rest needs telling. Might being the key word. Hopefully all enjoyed. If that is the case, the gift will keep on giving, as it was intended to do.


	13. The Fire Is Slowly Dying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This last verse isn't at all like the others and is meant to stand alone. If you aren't prepared for some heartbreak, take a moment to revel in the happy ending you just came to before diving in to the next four chapters. There is a happy ending here, but I don't know that it will be the one you are expecting.

Begin final verse

The curtains opened and time stood still.

As Belle tipped from the step ladder, Rumplestiltskin was certain that it would take years before she made it to the floor, yet he was behind her in an instant, landing sharply on one knee, using the other to help brace her fall. She fell into his outstretched arms, her body limp as it had never been before.

“Belle...” He begged life to return to her, begged the years to spin backward. He wanted another year, another day, another minute. “Belle...”

His body trembled with a need to cling to her, quivering in the anticipation of her sudden nonexistence. She couldn't go now. He couldn't lose her now. He needed her. They had bread to bake, a sunset to gaze at... even books to finish. And the dagger, he realized, glancing over to where it had been tucked away for all of these years. They hadn't gotten rid of it. He couldn't go with her and he needed to. He _needed_ to go with her. 

Slowly Belle's eyes shifted beneath their lids, which gradually parted revealing a deep exhaustion in their blue depths. Only they weren't blue any more. The color seemed faded, he realized, then chastised himself and blamed the bright light of the sun for dimming the color. Yes, that was it, that damned sun. Next time he'd insist she leave the curtains shut. That would solve everything. This wouldn't happen again. He wouldn't let it.

“Belle,” he whispered as he planted a tender kiss to her brow. Relief rushed over him as the corners of her mouth twitched in a smile. She was all right, she was moving, breathing, and he could fix the rest. He just needed to use magic one more time. To hell with the price.

Her arms drifted to him, but their grip was weak, as was the voice that tried to scratch out his name.

He hushed her and rested her tenderly against the chest they used as a coffee table by the sofa. “Wait right here,” he said in a rushed tone. “Let me move some things and we'll get you settled.”

She tried to protest, but he wouldn't hear it. He wouldn't lose her. He couldn't. He stood and moved to the table under the stairs, opened the long-forgotten box and snatched up the contents. Across the room, he heard a whimper and snapped his head up to see Belle struggling to lift herself forward. 

“Wait sweetheart,” he urged, rushing to her side. He dropped the dagger to the chest and wrapped his arms around her. “Let me...” She weighed nothing draped in his arms and he realized how frail she had become. Belle had always been so strong, both in form and in will, how had she suddenly shriveled away? He set her down on the sofa, careful of every part of her body that touched the soft cushions. She had to be comfortable to get the rest she needed. A little rest and she would be her usual self again.

Belle would survive this. She could survive anything. They had lived through storms and curses and battles and countless adventures. They had lived through joy and anger. They would live through this. It was just a fall. A fall and nothing more. She had fallen from the curtains before and catching her in his arms then had begun a whole new chapter for the two of them. This time wouldn't be any different.

He lectured himself as the light in her eyes dimmed, convinced he could make the lies true if only his belief could equal his need.


	14. My Dear, We're Still Goodbying

Weaver stormed into his apartment and threw himself onto the couch, crying out as the force jarred the healing wound that had woken Rumplestiltskin within him. He swore and clumsily punched a fist into the piece of furniture, a motion which was positively useless at dispelling his anger, since it simply cushioned the impact, bouncing his hand back at himself.

“I _can't!_ ” He howled the words, a primal sound that shot him to his feet and bought his fist to connect with the wall this time, the connection with a harder surface rattling the table beside him and the single bottle of whiskey it held.

His mind immediately snapped to the last time something had trembled that way. He had been in the Cave of the Departed, where Belle's image shook as her voice surrounded him. That voice, that beautiful voice that could never be forgotten. He longed for it, needed it. 

“Belle...?” He whispered to the bottle since he had nothing else to talk to, the teacup shattered in Tilly's little hideaway and everything else lost to him. Everything but the damned dagger that reminded him every day of the impossible distance from his one true love and refused to give him a moment's peace.

Tears filled Rumple's eyes as only the distant sounds of Seattle traffic reached his ears. He crumpled to the floor, weeping through his grief, mumbling incoherently through his sobs until sleep finally overcame him.

When his eyes opened he was standing in a garden. The air around him wavered with heat and the sun shone so brightly that he had to squint against it to make out where he was. The place was familiar, but a distant memory, somewhere he had traveled to with Belle and Gideon. He looked at the plants, the walkway, the walls of the nearby buildings. It was a city garden and he remembered it being near the sea.

“Morocco,” he said wistfully.

“You remember,” answered an all too familiar voice.

Rumple spun so fast that he nearly fell over. “Of course I remember,” he said, breathless. “We brought Gideon here after we visited the mosque.”

Belle smiled at him and stepped closer, the outfit she wore exactly matching what she had worn that day. She had insisted on something overly modest, though plenty of tourists wandered through Casablanca without giving a thought to Muslim propriety. She had insisted and, in the end, it was part of the experience he had enjoyed the most. He reached out to tuck a strand of hair under the scarf she had worn. “He kept trying to play with the cats,” she said, leaning in to the touch.

“Oh Belle, I miss you,” Rumple whimpered, feeling his eyes and lips quiver with the strain of holding back fresh tears.

“I'm still with you,” she told him, placing a hand on his heart. “Right here.”

“It's not enough,” he said, grasping her hand and clinging so tightly he worried he would break her.

“Then find our book,” Belle suggested. “You gave that book to me to start our journey and now I'm giving it to you so that you can finish it. Use it to keep me with you until we can see each other again.”

Rumple pulled her close. “We're together now,” he insisted. “All I have to do is stay asleep.”

“The others need you, Rumple. We _will_ see each other again. I promise.”

The pop of a truck's backfire jolted Weaver awake and it took a minute for him to get his bearings. Staggering to his feet he walked over to the bottle and glared at it. MacCutcheon was Lacy's favorite, he reminded himself, he and Belle had never bothered with the stuff.

“I'll find the book,” he sneered, glaring down at the label as if it were the thing responsible for all of his woes. “It's time to bring the pawn shop to Hyperion Heights.”


	15. As Long As You Love Me So

Black smoke rose from the heart in his hand. No, he realized as he stared at it, seeing light fill the pulsing muscle, it wasn't smoke, it was the darkness lifting. 

Rumplestiltskin watched, fascinated, as the light pushed the black from his heart and forced it out into the air, where it drifted away. All of the things he had done, all of the darkness that had held him down, smothered and drowned him for so many years, turned to dust and blown away in a nonexistent wind. The burden of the curse was no more, he realized. He was free.

His crippled body ached, but he ignored the pain as he imagined Belle. _You would have wanted to see this, sweetheart,_ he thought as the light pulsed and grew. He held his heart higher as he watched, wishing that raising it would bring it closer to her, prove to her that he had finally, _finally_ done the right thing.

No more rewards, just an old Savior sacrificing himself for others.

Even Belle would be out of his reach now, the final reward he had been so desperate to attain, slipping between his fingers as the light pulsed in his palm. It dawned on him that all of the joy she had brought would both begin and end in the same room, almost in the very spot, though a realm away. He could hear the creak of the wheel, the opening of the door, and imagined her return with a basket full of straw. She had trotted over, plopped herself down beside him... and kissed him.

How that kiss had changed him, proved to him that he _was_ a man worth loving, that though the power and darkness held him, he remained somewhere beneath. Oh, if he had known then just how happy they would be...

The Dark One hissed and Alice cried out, but he ignored everything and turned to where his friend was unconscious on the floor. Hook needed to be a father, Alice needed the chance to have him in her life. He thought of Gideon and wished he could have done more for him, wished that he could have said goodbye properly instead of treating each meeting as if it were the last they would ever have together.

Rumplestiltskin watched his pulsing heart as he stretched it to its new owner. Unable to speak through he pain of his movements, he willed his thoughts into the throbbing organ, filled his mind with all of the love and friendship he thought it could hold and imagined it spilling out onto the floor once it was beyond capacity.

 _Go be Alice's Papa, you bloody idiot,_ he thought as he stumbled forward.

As he fell, he realized he wasn't falling at all, but floating. Free of the worries of everything he had ever faced, he was lighter than air, lighter than magic, filled with a strength and fire he had never experienced before, even when using his most powerful spells.

Then, as suddenly as the feeling had begun, it ended, and everything and everyone around him simply wasn't a part of him any longer.


	16. Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow

“No!” Belle screamed as she stared down into the shifting pool of water. Her heart and her hope shattered with the sight of her one true love disintegrating and drifting away with the fire. “Rumple!” Her own voice tore from her so fiercely that her very being felt ripped apart. It felt as if her her chest would shatter like a mirror, pieces flying in every direction.

She watched the Dark One's end, unable to give up the hope that it was an illusion or some form of transportation spell. Her heart broke as his body transformed from drifting dust to a final flash of light in the flames that consumed him. She blinked back her tears, squinting into the reflection, willing something to be left behind, some shred of the man she loved that could be put back together somehow. But nothing was left, only the cold marble and the glow of a fireplace. Nothing. He was gone. Gone forever. It wasn't right.

Belle collapsed into the clouds that made up whatever ground existed in the eternal darkness and pounded her fists on the stone ledge of the fountain. The stone was, of course, inconsiderate and ignored her pain and anguish, taking her beatings without showing any signs that her actions could do it harm. And she _wanted_ to do it harm. She wanted to destroy everything.

“You made me stay here for him! Wait for _him!_ ” Her cries cut through the air, flying from her in the surreal silence that followed every sound made in this horrible place. “Rumplestiltskin didn't _ask_ to be the man he was! It wasn't his _choice!_ ”

Her body trembled with grief, her rant bringing a fire and rage to her that she had never felt before. She stood, fists clenched at her sides, ready to face the one she was lecturing and pound him until he was dust.

“Someone's wish _forced_ the darkness into him! He didn't _want_ it. Rumplestiltskin was made dark _only_ so that he could be the villain for a Savior! It's not right! _Everyone_ deserves a second chance!” Every part of her vibrated with the sound of her voice as she shrieked into the unknown. “Let him prove himself! Please! _PLEASE!_ ”

She fell to the clouds again, spent, weeping into the fountain that would never again show her an image of her love. As she cried, she felt a white hot tingle on her skin, then another, and even more. Lifting her head, Belle noticed millions of tiny sparks floating over her and drifting away. It was almost like snow, made of fire instead of ice, pure light instead of cool water. As the hot snow drifted away she turned back to the water one last time and whispered a goodbye.

“Belle...” The voice came from behind her and she froze at the sound. It couldn't be. It wasn't possible. “Belle...?” It came again, pressing at her and teetering on the verge of uncertainty and desperation.

Her head moved by instinct alone, turning to take in the one face she never thought she would see again, only it wasn't the face she expected, it was smooth and tanned, with deep brown eyes that held nothing but tenderness. 

“You're real... you're here...” She said hesitantly, pulling herself to her feet and stumbling in Rumple's direction, for it _was_ Rumple, she knew that now, dressed in his finest things, but free of the darkness at last. He nodded and let her come to him, allowed her to reach a hand to his arm and squeeze in disbelief. “Rumple? It's you... It's really you?”

He nodded. “Yes, Belle. It's me.”

“But how?” She blinked, staring at him, taking in his face, his hair, learning all of the new features that she somehow had known all along.

“I... I don't know,” he said calmly in a voice that almost wasn't the one she knew. “In one breath I was gone, the next, in a blaze of light, I was here.” He swallowed hard as he looked at her, his eyes strained and intense in that way he became whenever he was trying to hold himself back.

 _He thinks I'm afraid of him,_ she realized. _Or maybe he's afraid this isn't real._ There was only one way to release them both from their doubts and fears and Belle could not hold back any longer, she reached up and pulled him against her, kissing him soundly. His hesitation lasted only an instant before her kiss was returned, their need for each other blinding them in a brilliant flash of light.

When they parted, she looked up to him, smiling. “Come with me,” she said, “There's someone I want you to meet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes. This IS the end. There won't be any more.
> 
> If you want more, you'll be happy to know that some things in these stories also get included in my other series. Sadly, I write slowly. It is a necessity in my line of work and the only reason this got posted was that it was a series of short fics that I could throw down in a few minutes of spare time while on breaks. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who provided feedback. It means the world to me.


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